My head hurts.
Like it found its way between a door and its frame,
Briefly I wish it had found its way between concrete and a bus tire,
Or track and train wheels.
Wouldn’t that be fitting?
A train car you once fixed,
Breaking me beyond repair.
Because right now,
My soul crushed into a million pieces,
One for each lie you ever told me.
Each adding up,
Like the most ridiculous math problem,
One I could never hope to solve.
I was never good at math,
And I guess I’m not good at love either.
If I was,
Maybe I’d know not to give you everything I had,
Not to believe you’d given yourself to me.
I would have seen the things that didn’t add up.
But I’ve always been bad at math,
And I’ve always been terrible at judging people.
You said you loved me because I never judged you.
I never hated you for your poor decisions.
I still don’t.
But I should.
Despite everything you’ve done,
You’d still be the last one,
To run through my thoughts,
While that train barrels down the track,
While tons of metal ruins me faster than you did.
With more mercy and even less thought,
Than what you gave me.
But at least the end would be obvious.
Because there’s little left to question,
When it comes to locomotives and train tracks,
And brittle bones.
Its less obvious when it’s a road paved with lies,
Leading to hell,
When the signs,
Are clearly marked ‘heaven.’